


Obfuscator

by Francesca (Speranza)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-12-17
Updated: 1998-12-17
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:54:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speranza/pseuds/Francesca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obfuscations and explanations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Obfuscator

**Author's Note:**

> The real title of this is: "Serious Procrastination." I just do *not* want to do my work today! A palate cleaner, a little comedic piffle. Enjoy.

It took her a while to work up her nerve, but finally Elaine screwed up her courage and approached the tall, broad shouldered man bent over the copy machine. "Detective Ellison?" she asked shyly, and ice blue eyes turned to meet her brown ones. 

"Yeah?" he asked, looking at her expectantly. 

"I'm sorry to bother you, I was just wondering--I just wanted to ask you..." She fidgeted from side to side. 

"*Yeah?*" Ellison prompted distractedly, gently kicking the recalcitrant copier. 

"Well, I just wondered if, um, Blair was seeing anyone," she said quickly, "because I was thinking of asking him out, but I don't want to if he _is_ seeing someone, and..." She trailed off, instantly regretting her words as Detective Ellison let out a sigh. 

But when he turned to look at her again, she was surprised at the friendly warmth in his expression. 

"Oh _yeah_ ," he said sincerely, "I think that's a great idea. You should _absolutely_ ask him out." 

Elaine blushed, felt a smile spreading helplessly across her face. "You think so?" she asked happily. 

"Definitely," said Ellison enthusiastically, crossing his arms and leaning back against the churning machine. Elaine wondered why she'd ever been afraid of him; he seemed so aloof, but how easily they had become co-conspirators! "It'd mean a lot to him, I'm sure," Ellison added. He raised a finger, beckoning her closer, and leaned forward himself, lowering his voice. "The pills are working, and the doctor says he's not contagious anymore," he said softly, giving her an encouraging look. "What?" asked Elaine blankly, features going slack. 

"The chances of you catching it are, well, _almost_ negligible," Ellison continued confidentially. "And anyway there's really good treatments now, so I wouldn't worry either way." 

Elaine tried to put on a smile, found it rather difficult. "Oh," she said weakly. "Oh, that's good." 

"Yeah it is, it's just great. I'm really happy for him," said Ellison. "Should I tell him you'll call?" 

"No! I mean, no," said Elaine, heart pounding. "I, uh, well, I'd rather it be a surprise." 

"Good idea," said Ellison, turning and pulling his copies out of the paper tray. "It'll really make his day. Don't worry," he adding reassuringly, flashing her a big smile over his shoulder as he strode back across the hall to the bullpen. "I won't say a _word_ to him about our conversation, I promise!" 

"Thanks," said Elaine, and then called across to him more loudly across the hallway: "Thanks!" 

* * *

"Here's those reports you wanted," Sandra said, handing Jim Ellison a bunch of files. 

"Where do I sign?" murmured Jim, and Sandra handed him a clipboard, pointed to the appropriate line. 

"Hey, Jim," Sandra said abruptly, watching Ellison scratch out his name, "I've been meaning to ask you--is Blair seeing anyone?" 

"Yeah," said Jim, handing her back the clipboard and her pen. "Phil. He's great." He flipped open the first manila folder, scanned it, frowning. 

Sandra blinked. "Phil?" 

"Yeah," said Jim, not looking up. "I mean, they're still together as far as _I_ know--" and then he stopped, looked up, a guilty expression on his face. "Shit, Sandra," he hissed apologetically. "maybe he didn't want me to say anything." 

"Oh no," said Sandra immediately, raising her hands. "I'm sure it's fine. I just wondered how he was doing, that's all." 

Jim's face took on a pleading quality. "Sandra, do me a favor, okay--don't tell anyone that Sandburg is..." he trailed off, and gave a weak wave of his hand. " _You_ know," he said significantly. "Okay? _Please_? I don't want him to be pissed off at me--we have to work together and--" 

"Jim!" said Sandra, wide-eyed. "I would _never_!" She raised one hand, put it over her heart. "Honest to God!" 

Jim breathed a sigh of relief, nodded, smiled. "Thanks, kid," he said softly, cuffing her cheek gently. "I knew I could count on you." 

* * *

"Can't I get them today?" asked Ellison irritably. "Em, I _need_ those results!" 

"Say please," said Em, crossing her arms. 

"Okay, _please_ ," relented Ellison. "Pretty please with sugar on top. And a fucking cherry and chocolate syrup. But get me the damn analysis by 3:30, okay?" 

"4:30," corrected Em. Ellison glared at her and she raised helpless hands. "Best I can do, Jim--I don't work exclusively for _you_ , you know." 

"All right, all right," said Jim. "4:30. I'll be here on the dot, okay?" 

"Okay," said Em. Ellison turned to go; Em closed her eyes tightly for a second, made up her mind, and blurted it out. "Hey Jim? Is Sandburg seeing anyone?" 

Jim stopped, turned, his eyes wide and amused. "What did you say?" he said, coming back to stand against the counter. 

Em felt suddenly off-balance, but asked the question again anyway. "I asked you if Sandburg was seeing anyone." 

Jim's lips twisted into a smile, his eyes dancing wickedly. "Geez, Em--you run deep, don't you?" he asked quietly, teasingly. "I didn't know you were into _that_." He looked around quickly, making sure that no one had overheard them. 

"Into _what_?" whispered Em, wide-eyed. 

" _You_ know," said Jim, dropping his voice further still. "What *Sandburg's* into. I mean, don't worry, " he added sincerely, placing a reassuring hand over hers. "I overlook it. I'm not in Vice anymore, and I don't see it's any of my business." 

Em opened her mouth and made a small, strangled sound. 

"Still, though, I don't let him do it at the loft," continued Jim blithely, looking apologetic. "I mean, the neighbors were starting to complain, and I _am_ a cop, and how does it look?" 

"Ulp," said Em, trying to nod sympathetically. 

Jim took another cautious glance around. "So anyway," he murmured discreetly, "if you're interested, you'll have to talk to him about where they're meeting. I won't let him tell me--I figure it's better that way, you know?" 

"Uh," said Em, her face pale. "Yeah, definitely better." 

"So 4:30, right?" asked Jim, stepping away from the counter. 

"Uh...4:30, yeah," said Em. 

"You're a doll, Em," said Ellison, and then he gave her a wink and walked out.. 

* * *

Jim was rummaging in the fridge, looking for something that might, with a little effort and creativity, come to be dinner, when the door to the loft opened and Blair Sandburg came in. Jim winced as Blair slammed the door behind him, and straightened up. 

"I don't know what the fuck's going on," said Blair Sandburg, irritably, throwing his backpack on the floor and himself down on the couch, "but I can't get a date for _shit_!!" 

"Losing your touch, old man?" teased Jim, shutting the fridge door and slouching against the kitchen island. 

"Yeah, it sure looks that way," grumbled Blair, making a face. "I'm like poison--you couldn't give me away in a box of Cracker-Jack." He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. "Fucking twenty-eight years old and dateless on a Friday night. _Again_. Six weeks running, in fact. How pathetic is _that_?" 

Jim opened the fridge again, pulled out two beers, brought one over to where Blair was sitting. "Well, we all go through our dry spells," he said, extending the bottle to Blair. 

"Thanks, man," said Blair, gratefully accepting the bottle. "I guess it's a dry spell--weird karma in the air or something." He took a swig of the beer, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I'd better check my horoscope though--this thing has got to _end_ soon. I'm just, you know, all _twitchy_ \--it's like withdrawal! My body's like--'Damn! Where'd the sex go?'" and Jim sat down on the arm of the sofa and laughed. 

"Well," Jim said kindly, leaning over to gently brush a curl behind Blair's ear, "despite whatever line you've been spinning your girlfriends, nobody's every _really_ died of blue balls, you know." 

Blair grinned and stared up at him. "Not that's been _documented_ ," he amended, waving a finger at Jim. 

"Not that's been documented," agreed Jim, and Blair laughed and gave Jim's thigh a friendly squeeze. 

"So what are you doing tonight, man?" Blair asked, and Jim shrugged. 

"Nothing. Chilling out, I guess," he replied. 

"You wanna get dinner? Maybe catch a movie?" asked Blair. 

"Sure, why not," said Jim. "There's nothing to eat here, anyway." 

"Cool," said Blair. "We could go to that new Mexican place," he added suddenly. "Get smashed on margaritas--I think they're two for one." 

"Okay, " said Jim. "Let me just change my shirt--this one feels like work." 

"Okay," said Blair. "But hurry up, that place gets crowded." 

Jim climbed the stairs, pulled off his sweater and shirt. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled on a tight-fitting black T-shirt and reached into his closet for his brown leather jacket. He paused at the mirror, regarded himself with a critical eye. 

"Jim, come on!" Blair called, and Jim yelled back, "All right!" and then gave himself a last rueful smile. "I'm not proud," he murmured softly to himself, and then turned for the stairs. 

Blair was hovering by the door. "Let's go, let's go!" he said, pulling the door open as Jim crossed the room toward him. "Dude," he said, holding the door open for Jim, "good _shirt_ for you!" and Jim smiled as he pulled the door shut. 


	2. Obfuscator Too

"Oh," moaned Blair. 

"Oh. 

"Oh. 

"Oh, _Jim_...

"Jim, _yes_.

"Yes.

"Ohhhhh....

"--No.

"No, don't.

"No, Jim, _wait_!" 

"What?" Jim asked. "What _is_ it?" 

"I can't, Jim. I just can't do this." Blair was panting, nearly hyperventilating, and Jim clamped down on the sudden piercing pain in his gut and let Sandburg slip out of his arms, grasping fingertips reluctant to release the soft, knit fabric of Sandburg's shirt. 

"I care about you, honest--and I want to, really, I do _want_ to," babbled Sandburg as he skittered nervously to the far side of the sofa, holding his hands up, putting distance between them, and Jim closed his eyes, knowing now that it wouldn't, _couldn't_ work, preparing to explain to Sandburg that he understood, that there would be no hard feelings, _never_ any hard feelings between them. 

"It's just--" Blair continued anxiously, hands fluttering as he pulled his shirt back down over his chest, "it's just not in my _nature_ , you know? I mean--I mean--" 

"Blair, it's OK," said Jim quietly, opening his eyes. "You don't have to explain or justify or--" 

"No, I do--I _do_ , Jim--I owe you that," said Blair, eyes pleading. "I need you to understand. I mean, I think we've had a _major_ misunderstanding here." 

Jim shook his head. "No, please don't," he murmured. "It's me, I should never have--" 

"No, wait--just listen, okay?" said Blair. "The thing is," he began, "I _know_ you think I'll fuck anything that moves, I _know_ you think I'd hump a table leg, but I'm not _like_ that, Jim--really I'm not." 

Jim cringed with guilt. "Blair, I'm so sorry," he said softly. 

"Jim, _listen_ ," Blair begged, and his expression was so pained that Jim fell silent. "You think I'm really promiscuous but you don't really know me. You think I'd do anything, do _anyone_ \--but I have _limits_ , man! I have standards, principles, ethics--there are things I won't do, Jim." 

Blair raised his hands, rubbed his face, then slid his palms back over his hair, pushing it back. Then he looked up at Jim, a sorrowful apology in his eyes. "So I hope you understand why I can't do this. It just--" and here he squeezed his eyes shut, "--it just wouldn't be right to Phil." 

Whang! and Jim Ellison thought he'd had sensory spikes _before_ , but fuck! they were _nothing_ like this! nothing the flying _fuck_ like this! and Blair's tumbling words pounded through his brain like a freight train, like the 4:15 through Paddington Station, and he screwed his eyes shut and pressed his hands to his head to prevent his brain from falling out. 

"I mean, Phil's always been there for me," explained Blair, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them. "Who sat up with me during my many horrible illnesses, waiting for the scabs to fall off, making me take my pills? Phil. He's put up with my kinky tastes, satisfied my most perverse desires, bailed me out of jail and helped me avoid almost _certain_ prosecution for my many nefarious activities. And he went with me every day to counseling, stood by me through thick and thin. That kind of _loyalty_ , Jim--that can't be _bought_ , that's not something you throw away for a _fling_!" 

Jim opened his eyes and squinted at his partner, who was glaring at him from across the sofa. 

"And that accident with my penis and the threshing machine?" Blair continued mercilessly, and Jim winced. "I didn't think we'd survive _that_ , but apparently we did. Because he loves me for who I _am_ , Jim. He's a helluva guy, my Phil." 

"Oh, god..." Jim muttered softly. 

"And, so, I mean, we could _do_ this," said Blair, gesturing toward the sofa, toward the space between them, that space that wasn't there a few minutes ago. "Yeah, _sure_. Except that it isn't in my _nature_ to be a dirty, stinking, rotten cheater," said Blair, and Jim had no doubt that the adjectives "dirty, stinking, and rotten" were being directed straight at _him_. 

"You wouldn't respect me in the morning," Blair added. "You'd hate me for it eventually. It would always be between us, what we'd done to Phil. And even if it wouldn't," Blair continued, and Jim jerked his head up to stare at his partner. "Even if I could overcome that," continued Blair, "there's still the practicality of the situation." Blair stopped, and his lips twisted wryly and Jim braced himself. "After all, Jim--he's a big guy. And he just might come over here and beat the shit out of you." Blair grinned and waggled his eyebrows triumphantly. 

"He's bigger than me?" Jim asked. 

"Oh yes," deadpanned Blair. " _Much_ bigger." 

Jim considered this. "I could take him," he said, finally. 

"I don't know about that," said Blair, doubtfully. "He really is pretty big," and he waved his arms in a way which suggested a hulking giant of a man. 

"Well, if he's that's big he doesn't have speed." objected Jim. "I'll outmaneuver him." 

"He's really rather surprisingly agile," said Blair. "Trust me on that." 

"Oh yeah?" asked Jim. "Strength _and_ speed?" 

"Yeah," said Blair. "Plus he's sensitive. And smart--man, you have no idea how smart." 

"He sounds perfect," Jim reluctantly conceded. 

"Oh, he is. Absolutely perfect," said Blair. 

Jim nodded, processing this. Then he turned to Blair and asked, "So do you love him?" 

The question seemed to startle his partner. "Love?" Blair echoed questioningly. 

"Yeah. You know: love. Do you love him?" asked Jim. 

" _Love_?" Blair repeated. 

" _Love_ \--L-O-V-E--what part of this aren't you getting?" 

Blair chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Love's a big word," he said. 

"No, not really," Jim disagreed. "'Obfuscator' is a big word: 'love' is a small word." 

"Says you," said Blair irritably. He thought hard for a moment or two and then sighed. "No, I guess I don't really love Phil, when push comes to shove," Blair admitted. 

"Well, in that case, I'll take my chances," said Jim, moving closer to him. 

"You might get hurt," warned Blair. 

"So what else is new?" muttered Jim, sliding a hand up Blair's arm. 

" _I_ might get hurt," said Blair tightly, and Jim stopped his hand, knowing that this, finally, was no obfuscation. 

"Maybe," said Jim, drawing his hand away. He met Blair's eyes and then added, sincerely, "I hope not." 

And they looked at each other for a moment, and the moment stretched out longer and longer until finally Blair Sandburg exhaled and said, simply, "Oh, what the hell," and bent forward to kiss him. 

Jim reached out through the haze of the kiss and slid his hands back under Sandburg's shirt, and Blair was warm and hard and smooth to his touch. And they were over the hurdle, he was over the hurdle despite himself, and it was working, now, it was going to work between them, because Sandburg was warm and wonderful and loving and giving and forgiving and-- 

"Oh," moaned Blair.

"Oh. 

"Oh. 

"Oh, _yes_.

"Yes!

" _Yes_!

"Ohhhhh....

"Yes! Please! Yes! 

"Oh, _Phil_!" 


End file.
